Death Looks Good on You
by 1234wordstosay
Summary: '"Hey, stranger," a warm, honey-sweet voice sounds somewhere behind her, and she can barely pull her arm away from the hungry biter fast enough'. Slight Michonne/Andrea, but you could ignore it.


The first time it happens, she's in the middle of a walker killing spree just outside the prison.

She's alone, screaming out of agony and grief with every strike of her sword. Quiet tears streaming from her dark, burdened eyes as she kicks the undead away from her blade and flicks the blood off before going back for more.

There are too many for her to handle, she knows, and they just keep coming. They will kill her before she can even cry out for the help of the group. She realizes though, in her hasty retreat to the prison courtyard, that she doesn't fear death. Maybe she never has, but especially not now. Not with all of the things that she's lost.

She stands inside the courtyard, sweat beading at her brow. She's just so _tired. _Every day is a struggle, not just with the walkers, but with everything. It's a struggle to _exist. _This new world filled with fear and terror weighs so heavily on her shoulders that she's not sure if she can make it any longer. Not without…without _her._

Her mind is hazy and lost in thought when a lone walker makes its presence known on the far side of the closed gate. She sighs deeply, running a warm hand over her tired face before she moves to take care of the unwanted disruption.

She stands in front of it. The thing that used to be a real human being, now a snarling animal hungry for her flesh. She twirls her katana in her skilled and steady hand, the way she has for so long. _Too long,_she thinks suddenly.

She doesn't want to be here anymore. She doesn't want to have to fight so much to win so little. To lose the people that mean the most to her, to wear herself so thin that she doesn't even remember what life was like _before._

She resigns herself, in that moment, to death. She has already accepted her fate—she accepted it a long time ago. Life just isn't worth it anymore, all the things that made the long nights and sore bones worth it, well. They're gone.

She stares into the glazed over eyes of the hungry beast on the other side of the fence and drops her sword. After all, now is as good a time as any to call it quits, and she might as well surrender on her own terms. The sun is bright and the trees are swaying in the far off field. It feels like before, almost, when she would take her dog for long walks on country roads and listen to Sinatra.

She smiles genuinely, eyes crinkling in a way she hasn't fully known for months. She feels lighter, now, as she reaches her hand toward the angry biter on the other side. She is ready to greet her demise with open arms and a warm smile as she sticks her arm through to the waiting fangs of her predator.

"Hey, stranger," a warm, honey-sweet voice sounds somewhere behind her, and she can barely pull her arm away from the hungry biter fast enough. "Whatcha doin'?"

Michonne closes her eyes at the sweet, sweet sound of Andrea, her lips quirking in simple amusement.

"Nothin'." Michonne replies gruffly, bending to pick up her katana and return it to its sheath.

"Nothing? Huh, that's interesting. 'Cause I feel like _something_ was just about to happen and you're not telling me about it." Michonne can hear the smile in Andrea's voice and it melts her, as it always did, and forces her to turn around.

She has to use all of her power to not let her jaw drop. Andrea is vibrant—glowing. Wearing a deep, low cut red dress and a blinding smile. She looks timeless, beautiful_,_ free in a way that Michonne never got to see when she was alive_._ Her hands rest on her hips and her right eyebrow is quirked in simple curiosity.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." she says with a wink.

"Cheeky," Michonne replies, voice cracking. She quickly diverts her eyes out of embarrassment and bites at her lip. She can hear Andrea scoffing and then humming in approval. "You, uh. You look…nice. Death suits you."

Andrea smiles, lifting her arms up in a half shrug and letting them fall back to her sides unceremoniously (Michonne notices it doesn't make a sound when her hands hit her thighs).

"What are you doing here?" Michonne asks, fiddling with the hem of her tattered vest.

"I think that's a question to ask yourself, sweetheart." Andrea says gently, shooting her an understanding smile and sitting down on one of the benches. She crosses her legs regally and flips her straightened hair over her shoulder, leaning her chin into her hand and waiting for Michonne to respond.

Michonne is quiet, though, as always. She closes her eyes tightly and wills Andrea to go away. _Not again, _she thinks to herself. Her heart is aching in her chest for the people she's lost, seen, and can have no more. She peeks, briefly, and Andrea wiggles her fingers in greeting.

"Still here, sorry," she says with a chuckle. Michonne groans out loud, pacing back and forth and glaring at the hungry biter she had offered herself to only moments before.

"Look, Michonne," Andrea cuts through the silence. "Tell me, _really_. What were you doing with that walker?" her arms are crossed now, and she is wearing an expression that Michonne can only classify as 'bullshit-me-or-die'.

"I'm…" Michonne starts and trails off, bringing her fingers up to rub at her temple.

"You're what? Playing Truth or Dare?"

"No, I'm not—" Michonne tries to continue, fists clenching at her sides. Her teeth find the inside of her cheek as she thinks on what to say next.

"Do you realize how much everyone depends on you? Because I feel like you're not fully grasping onto the situation and—"

"You're dead." Michonne interrupts, her voice low and intense, "You're dead, Andrea, and I'm stuck here. _That's _me grasping onto the situation. That's me being expected to pick up the pieces like I'm some sort of superhero. I'm _not_. You _know_ that. And what, you left me here to fend with a bunch of people whose names slip my mind on a_ good day_? They're _your _people, Andrea. They always will be. But you're not here to be with them like you should be. You're not here to be with them because you're—" her voice cuts off abruptly, and when she starts again it's with a weakness that she's tried to hide for so long. "I just... I don't know how to do this anymore."

Andrea's eyes are wide as she stands and takes a step forward, reaching out to Michonne before she can stop herself. Her hand passes through her entirely. Neither of them comment on it.

"I'm sorry," Andrea says, her voice breaking. "For not going with you. You know that, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I know." Michonne responds without thinking, her arms crossed and her body still shaking as she scuffs one of her boots on the asphalt.

"Don't do this. Don't blame yourself for what happened." Andrea begs.

"I shouldn't have left Woodbury," Michonne chokes out. "I shouldn't have left _you." _she is crying now, and she makes no motion to stop the tears from falling down her cheeks. She wants to reach out, to be able to touch Andrea. To hug her close and not let her go, to tell her everything she always wanted but couldn't bring herself to.

"No, honey," Andrea responds, shaking her head emphatically. "I shouldn't have _stayed._"

Andrea is crying now, too, and the women stand staring as the breeze dries the tear tracks marking their cheeks. A sad silence stretches between them as they look into each other's eyes.

Too much of their time has been spent like this, both having so much to say but no way to say it, and it only makes Michonne yearn for the times they spent together just the two of them. In this moment, Michonne realizes, she has a hole in her heart that will never be filled again.

As she is realizing this, much like back in the warehouse, she blinks and Andrea is gone.


End file.
